


Stay

by SomewhereApart



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Missing Year (Once Upon a Time), Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 15:49:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13484754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereApart/pseuds/SomewhereApart
Summary: Missing Year. Robin and Regina have finally succumbed to their attraction (it was only a matter of time), but the afterglow holds some surprises for them both.





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> From a tumblr prompt meme: OQ - "You don't have to stay."

He’s not sure quite what happened, what finally pushed them over the edge from frustrated bickering into frantic coupling, but it happened and Robin is grateful. He’s wanted her for months, since the moment he first saw her, those dark eyes and full lips, that lovely face. That body (he will not lie, he’s been imagining what she might look like under those tightly cinched corsets and clinging velvet dresses for much longer than would be considered polite). No amount of biting words or prickly attitude could dissuade him from his attraction to her, but he’d been unsure whether she felt the same. It was possible - plausible even - that the tension between them was borne of mutual attraction and frustration. But it could just as easily have been a genuine distaste for him, and so Robin had not pursued her.

But now here they are, in her bedchambers - a happy accident, as they’d not been headed here. They’d been bickering, as they often did, traversing a castle hall just two turns away when she had growled angrily, frustrated at whatever it was they’d been talking about (he doesn’t remember now, can hardly be expected to remember anything while her slick, wet heat slides around his hard cock), and shoved him against the wall without warning, her mouth crashing against his a moment later. Robin was not going to protest.

  
It was, perhaps, not his most gentlemanly moment, but he’d kissed her back just as eagerly, finally let his hands clutch at all those lovely curves, skimmed his fingertips over the soft swells of her breasts, piled high in one of those corsets again today, tempting him as always, stealing his attention. They’d stumbled, tugging at ties and buttons, panting, kissing sloppily, turned one turn, and then then other, crashed through the double doors into her room and headed straight for the bed. She’d been nearly naked by the time her back hit the mattress, a wave of her hand closing the chamber doors with a bang. 

Robin prides himself in being a careful lover - by which he means he takes great pains to ensure the women he beds are well taken care of, that their needs are well met - but the Queen had hurried him along. Had disposed of their last bits of clothing with a wave of her hand, had let him indulge only a few breathless minutes with his fingers buried deep inside her, his mouth tugging at the dark peak of one of those incredible breasts. She’d gasped and moaned and writhed, tugged at his hair and clutched at his arms, but she hadn’t come - not before she’d wrapped her thighs around him and squeezed, demanding, “Inside me - now. I can’t wait any longer.”

Robin hadn’t had the willpower to deny her, and now here they are, with her head tipped back, her fancy up-do loosening against the sheets as he pounds into her fiercely, quickly. It’s a rushed, frantic thing, not his best showing, but she doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest, scoring his skin with her nails, crying out in wanton abandon when he hikes her knees just a touch higher. Robin looks down at her, spread out on the sheets for him like a feast ready to be devoured - he should not have done this, it has awakened a hunger in him that even now, even as he stands next to her bed and pushes in and out of her, draws gasping moans from her lovely painted lips, makes her fingers fist in the sheets, even now he wants  _more, again, another time, all night._ Wants her desperately and is not sure if she will permit.

And then she seizes up, her belly clenching, face scrunching, jaw dropping before she lets out an ecstatic wail and Robin grits his teeth against the pleasure of her orgasm, drags his thumb more swiftly over the swollen, sensitive knot between her thighs, pushes her higher, gives her more, until she is screaming for him and he cannot hold back another second. He nearly forgets to pull out of her, to spill on her belly instead of deep inside her (he cannot imagine the queen eager to carry his child) - nearly, but not quite, and she trembles and moans quietly even when he has freed himself of her, even as he comes low on her belly.

His knees are weak, his muscles wobbly, so he lets himself lean over her, falls onto his elbows and rests his brow against her damp shoulder as he struggles to catch his breath and she does the same. 

That was well worth the rocky months behind them. 

The rise of fall of her chest slows gradually, as does his, and her legs shift restlessly where they’re locked around his waist now. He presses a kiss to the hollow of her shoulder, another, one more for good measure, and that’s when she speaks. She has the low, rough voice of one well-seen-to as she tell him, “You don’t have to stay.”

Robin frowns. He’d been half expecting her to kick him out - it wasn’t as though they’d gotten here by finding themselves in some moment of great affection. But there is something in her tone, a distance and resignation, that gives him pause. He lifts his head, peers down at her. Her face is carefully blank. “Perhaps I’d like to stay,” he reasons plainly, and she scoffs, rolls her eyes.

“Right,” she says quietly, her certainty that he is lying clear as day, and it turns his stomach. Makes him suddenly, surprisingly angry. How many men, he wonders, have bedded the queen and then taken their leave? How many have taken their fill of her and walked away, that she assumes as fact that he will do the same?

He shifts, then, cards his fingers through her mussed hair, strokes down the column of her neck, and tells her with intentional tenderness, “Regina, I’ve wanted you from the moment I laid eyes upon you.”

One of those perfectly formed eyebrows arches gracefully, and she breaks his heart when she tells him, “And now you’ve had me. Lucky you. You owe me nothing more.”

“I didn’t owe you this,” he points out, fingers threading back into the hair at her nape. “And I’d like quite a bit more than your body, milady. You’re not a conquest, or some prize to be won.”

She’d been looking past him for a moment, managing to appear almost bored, but her gaze flicks back to him at his last words, and something shifts in her face. Suddenly she is there with him, present and open, and there’s a sadness, an ache in her, as she says simply, “Oh.” It’s a quiet noise, soft and disbelieving and he burns again, wants to throttle whoever has her so convinced sharing her bed is about things owed and things won. She swallows thickly, blinks back the scant tears that have begun to gather in her eyes. And then she amends her earlier statement, tells him instead, “You can stay, if you’d like.”

And he does.


End file.
